Study Buddies
by barbieQUE
Summary: OK, you know the quote - but do you know the whole story? No? Me neither. But never fear - Chapter 3 is here! No. I am not a poet.
1. Chapter One

~Loving the people (or person) who is currently reading this authors note. This is not necessarily my first story, but I'd appreciate as many reviews as you will give me. Thank you and good night … or morning … or afternoon~ 

~Chapter One~ 

   I guess I should start from the beginning. And then I think to myself. When exactly did this all begin? What exactly is all of this? I wouldn't know. I gave up thinking things through a long time ago—when I stopped being smart and making everyone look at me expectantly every time a teacher asked a question. I craved the attention at first. I remember my first year well; I made everyone else look like dimwitted fools, since I managed to read all of my schoolbooks before the year began. Now, I don't feel it's necessary. I think it's nice to do your homework, and know just a few things than the others, but I don't feel it's nice to show them up—okay, I love it, but people don't love me for it. 

   Well, back to my incredibly enthralling story. It won't be as detailed as it's supposed to be, because I feel I was drunk half the time, but I will try my best. After all, I was enjoying my final year at Hogwarts. I didn't half as many responsibilities because I requested that I would not be held under the Head Girl duties. I do believe—and I am sticking by this—that is was the smartest decision I have ever made. Including when I decided not to go home with the man who called himself 'The Terminator'. 

   Yet again, I have gotten off track, and you may think I am procrastinating. I'm not. I've just become incredibly forgetful. And now I will remember—my story begins now. I will press the 'Enter' twice button on my incredibly good looking and expensive laptop. I will press the 'Space Bar' three times. Then I will begin. I promise. 

   I was seventeen years of age. Note the of age. I could Apparate and Disapparate. I could perform spells without receiving warnings from the Ministry of Magic. I was finally free. I had a plan. After Hogwarts, Ginny and I were planning on moving into London and purchase the most expensive apartment, while making livings as professional models and actresses who star in ridiculous movies but still end up famous all the same. My Auror dream had been dashed. Not because of the fact that I could not possibly become one, but because I was extremely tired. I was tired of the wizarding world, and of the spells and such. I missed my old life, and I'd dragged Ginny along with me. But she said time and time again that she let herself be dragged. 

   Most of the seventh years have grown out of the groove of dropping insulting comments whenever they saw you. I had even had a conversation with several Slytherins who had not found it necessary to call me a Mudblood every chance they got. I was impressed. Dumbledore had made it quite clear he would not put up with their rubbish and I was glad. My friends were glad. Everyone in the entire school was glad—except for Draco Malfoy.

   For example, a conversation between us would go like this: 

   "Hello M—Hermione." 

   "Hello Draco." 

   "Your hair looks good." This was said with his fist in his mouth. 

   "Thank you. Yours too." 

   "No it doesn't." 

   "No, you're right. It doesn't." 

   "I'll have to report you now—my hair looks fine. Anyone can see that." 

   "And then I'll have to recall all those names you called me. If you don't believe me I have my diary as proof." 

   Snort. "Diary." 

   "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" 

   Fist in mouth. Long pause. "No." 

   "I'm sure you don't. Goodbye, Draco." 

   I loved it. Every minute of it. He didn't, which made it so much better. And then, Professors around the school decided a union was to be created between houses. No one liked the idea, especially when Malfoy and I were nominated as the leaders and advisors of the union. I wouldn't know the first thing about uniting people—the only time I've done that was when I introduced Lavender to a half-naked Ashton Kutcher poster. But it was our responsibility, so we were forced to, and we did. We made Crabbe and Goyle hang out with Harry and Ron for at least an hour. It was great. The funniest hour of my life, and that was before Crabbe set Harry's robes on fire. And then the union idea was dashed. Everyone had such a problem with it, we had to. It was fun while it lasted, however. 

   And then Dumbledore came up with the great holiday gig. The smart kids, the good kids, whoever got on his good side was sent to a holiday destination, where they were meant to study. Well, I pfft at the studying idea. I spit at the studying idea. I get absolutely hammered at the idea of studying. Did I mention I was going there to do absolutely anything but study? 

   Of course, I was sent with the usual suspects. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, Pansy and—of course, to make it even more interesting they add the odd Draco Malfoy into the mix. 

   So, I'm seventeen years old. I'm about to head somewhere in the centre of alcohol and sex, but no one does anything about it? So, I'm a confused seventeen year old, going to the centre of alcohol and sex. Dumbledore isn't that stupid. He may let a lot of stupid people get away with stupid things but he's not stupid. So, I say so again, and I'm glad because it's making me feel better. And then I realise something: maybe Dumbledore realises that we are students, who have five weeks of school left and exams on our heads. Maybe we need some excitement in our lives. Maybe we deserve this, because we do. 

   I'm packed. I'm excited. I'm about to be transported to the best place in years. And then someone ruins it all. Someone says that the place is absolutely deserted from anywhere else, and it's too late for us to find spells to conjure up alcohol or any other substances we might need. So, I conjure up the things we need to conjure up the things we drink. I'm ready. I'm about to leave. I'm seventeen. I'm young. I see Ron smuggling Playboys into his suitcase. 


	2. Chapter Two

--**For those of you with short attention spans (like me) let's recap**-- 

Disclaimer: No. I do not own Harry Potter. Stop, already. 

Title: Study Buddies

Rating: R - for no apparent reason, it just has that R feel. 

Summary: OK, you know the quote -- but do you know the whole story? No? Neither do I. But never fear - Chapter Two is here! No. I am not a poet. 

**Just For Something Different - Draco's POV **

**Chapter Two**

   She'd changed her hair. I noticed quietly along with everyone else. I heard her telling one of the girls she used one of those highlight booster creme conditioner crap that gorgeous blonde celebrities like to rag on about. As you can tell I am devastatingly bored. I am sitting in the car charmed to fit in all ten of us -- Dean and Seamus managed to convince Dumbledore studying was a vital importance to them -- comfortably. Potter was the driver. Correction -- Potter was a terribly slow and horrible driver. At times, when pushed by the rest of us, he would go slightly than usual. The slightly faster being one or two kilometres faster. Sad, really. I would've thought the lone survivor of Lord Voldemort would at least be a good driver. 

  Now, I must explain why I was talking about Hermione Granger's (previous credits include mind-numbingly boring book worm) hair. You see, the normal five-seater car was changed from two-people-front-seat-occasional-hand-jobs-are-known-to-frequent-there to five-people-front-seat-it'd-be-quite-gritty-porn-for-a-hand-job-to-frequent-there. And the back was changed from three-people-back-seat-again-quite-gritty-porn-if-anything-was-to-happen to five-people-back-seat-again-again-I-know-quite-gritty-porn-Ron-Weasley-would-adore. So, Hermione is sitting in front of me, and although I could've just said that tiny fraction of anything interesting I decided it best to get it out there. As I mentioned before she changed her hair. It's longer, either a result of a spell, hair extensions or having enough patience to grow it to your arse. And there it was. Flowing from her hair it's right in front of me -- begging to me described. It's also begging to be brushed ... Someone was in a rush this morning. So I did. I described it. It's quite nice as far as hair is concerned. It definitely doesn't give off the book worm-ish vibe it did before. 

   In fact, nothing of Hermione Granger's current seventeen-year-old existence gives off a book worm-ish vibe anymore. It was quite strange at first, but she changed herself in such a subtle way that if any poor soul was recruited to attend Hogwarts in their seventh year, they would never would have guessed first-hand that the previous-know-it-all Granger simply wasn't putting up her hand anymore. If I remember correctly she only put her hand up four times this year. Three times was to go to the bathroom and the fourth was when most of us were in a desperate need to throw up any more alcoholic substances after we got drunk off our tits the night before. 

   You may be thinking now that Draco Malfoy has changed. And I say to you -- slightly, just slightly. To elaborate on the slightly I just stopped being a complete and utter bastard to everyone around me. No. I didn't need a patch. I just needed a few jolly beers to be nice for a night and then I began living up to the 'Drunk Draco' everyone came to embrace. No. Seriously. Drunk Draco is what they called me. And I'll tell you it sure beats Ferret Face.  

   "Come on, Harry!" Hermione says suddenly. "Hurry the fuck up or we'll be here till Christmas." 

   "Too right we will, Hermione!" Ron says, nodding at her. "Christmas is only two weeks away." I've come to like Ron. Ever since he tried to punch Crabbe in the nose and he hit his jaw. Watching a now elephant-sized-man eat soup three times a day is some classic moments I will never forget. However, I still do not like Potter. Why? Well, he drives like a woman for a start. 

   Parvati and Lavender -- who have come to look immensely like one another -- look up from their newly manicured nails and nod at the conversation at hand to show they've joined in. Pansy is entranced by the map we're using to find our way to destination. It truly is a miracle she's got us this far. However, it's only a matter of time before ... 

   "We're lost!" she exclaims, looking up from the map staring at the road in front of us. 

   Hermione stares at her. Blinks a few times. Stares some more. Then looks around the car. "Who didn't see this coming?" 

   Pansy raises her hand. She's the only one. 

   "Draco, help her, will you?" she says. 

   Lucky me. I had to be the one Pansy was obsessed with from day one to lead to sitting next to her in car full of young and disturbed people. I look at the map. Praise the Lord. It's upside-down. I turn it the right way quickly and causing a mark that will eat at me later, I bite my tongue hard to keep from laughing. Dean and Seamus let a simultaneous snort. I obviously wasn't the only one who saw.

   "Turn left, Harry." It's Ron command. Although, I can't understand how we could hear him so clearly now his whole fist is in his mouth. Dear me. When will Pansy ever learn? Never, I hear you say. Oh, I whole heartedly concur. 

   Let's review the seating plan. Front seat: Potter -- driving, Ginny -- reading, Parvati -- staring, Lavender -- picking ... Er ... something out of her ear, Hermione -- looking at me. 

   We'll get back to that. 

   Oh. Hang on. No. We won't. I'm asking now. "Yes?" 

   "Oh, sorry. You have ... Uh ... Salvation."

   Smokes. My smokes. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at my smokes. Hermione Granger, a smoker. Who would've thunk it? Not me. I did not thunk it for a second. 

   "Right. Right. You want one?" 

   She beams. "God, yes!"

   "Not in my car." Potter. 

   She takes a sole cigarette. "I'll save it for later." 

   Reviewing seating plan once again. Back seat: Ron -- fist still in mouth, Seamus -- snorting now and again, Dean -- leaning against Pansy for support 'cause he laughing so hard, even though we are in a car, Pansy -- absolutely perplexed why people are laughing at her, Draco -- me. Doing nothing. As usual. 

   "Oh -- shit! We're here!" Ginny's found her voice, as we pull into a rocky mess which somehow passes as a driveway. 

   "Miracle," Hermione and I utter in unison. We stare at each other, embarrassed. It's an odd moment.

   We stumble out of the car. Suddenly there is a comfortable silence. 

   "Upside-down!" Leave it to Ron to ruin a good moment. 

   Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. 

**--**I'll thank all of you reviewers soon -- next chapter -- so get to reviewing! You'll get to see your name on the computer! Cool! God, I'm lame! Hey, beach -- hope your reading! This was in a way dedicated to you -- ALL OF YOU -- so, get to reviewing! Bye, bye**--**

**When SB continues … **

**I have absolutely no idea what will happen. Use your great imaginations…******


	3. Chapter Three

--**Short memories, look here**-- 

Disclaimer: Owning nothing. Please don't sue. 

Title: Study Buddies

Rating: R -- for no apparent reason, it just has that R feel. 

Summary: OK, you know the quote -- but do you know the whole story? No? Neither do I. But never fear - Chapter Three is here! No. I am not a poet. 

**The Possibly Drunk Alcoholic's Turn -- Hermione's POV **

**Chapter Three **

   Is it me or am I going crazy? Or is it both? I feel I'm not at liberty to answer my own questions anymore, since the probability is I won't come up with a coherent answer. Slurring is my speciality. You cannot even understand what I am saying, which is when I decide to tell the person I'm talking to what I really think of them. Just show a little teeth and they'll think you're the sweetest smashed person in the world. Try it. If it doesn't work you lose a friend, but you get a money-back guarantee. Oh Dear Lord, you're dim. You actually thought I was going to pay you. 

   But before I launch into a talk about nothing that really matters anyway, I will proceed to answer my own questions since none of anyone seems to be being any help.

   _Is it me or am I going crazy? _

Well. It is me. Or else it wouldn't be my own question. You know, sometimes I sit and think -- which now is not very often -- how does that expression make any sense? Is it me? Yes. And if it isn't you, well, that's one darn good replica you got going there. Or perhaps it's an alien. But then you'd have to go through all your "The Truth Is Out There" books, to actually answer that question correctly. Oh, by the way, if you haven't yet guessed I am completely and absolutely drunk. Drunk as Drunk Draco. Which is actually quite impressive. 

   And I've just realised that I still haven't answered my own question. I've just rambled and talked about aliens and expressions and Drunk Draco. Speaking of the drunk man himself, here he comes. Hello. Well. Now, that's no good. I've forgotten to speak. That may be a good thing in other cases, but not this one. Then the slurring thing won't work. Practice. 

   "Hello."

   There that wasn't so bad. Hell-o. Or perhaps it's Hel-lo. Or maybe it's He-llo. Oh God. I told you I'm drunk. 

   "Hi. You're pissed." 

   "You're good." 

   "I'm settled." He stretches on the couch he joined me on. It's unfortunate. It's unfortunate because whoever was designing these couches must have thought -- "What is the most absolutely disgusting colour there is?" Then decided on one I can't even categorise. It's a mix between vomit and vomit and shit. There. Now, doesn't that paint a pretty picture?

   "What's everyone doing?" I pretend to sound interested. The only person I remotely care about is Ron, because over an hour ago he had locked himself in the bathroom with what he liked to call "informative magazines." Dear God. Now that I think about it my friends are unfortunately dim. Which means I am in turn unfortunate. And laughing. Oh. Yes. Here comes the 'emotional Hermione.' 

   Draco looks at me. "I haven't said anything yet. Why are you laughing?" 

   My mind draws a blank. Then I do actually find something funny. "Your shoes." 

   Draco turns red. "What's wrong with them?" 

   "They're pink." 

   "They're red." 

   "They're pink-red." 

   "They're red-pink." 

   "Ha! Got ya!" I grin at him. To my surprise, he grins back. Then he stops. 

   "Why is the house so boring?" 

   "I'm not boring." 

   "Ah ... you're the exception." 

   "I am?" Excited. 

   "Well, you're the drunk exception." He stops yet again. "Come to that. Why are you the drunk exception, Hermione?" 

   Wow. Wow. Wow. With an exclamation point I can't be bothered printing. Draco Malfoy's taking an interest in mine. Flattered. Disturbed. More disturbed than flattered. Let's not forget he's evil. Well, kind of. He is a bastard, of course. Of course. But not all bastards are that bad. Perhaps he's a sweet as sugar. Somewhere. In his ear. Yes. Why his ear? I'll get back to you -- 

   "Well, Draco. It all started when ... " I scrunch up my face trying to remember. It doesn't help much, it just makes my face hurt. A lot. I stop. "Potions lesson. The week after beginning of seventh year. _You _made fun of me," I say, pointing a finger at him. 

   "I made fun of you all the time, Hermione." 

   "Yes, well ... it was at a very vulnerable time. You know ... _that time_ ... catching on?" 

   "Nope." He smiles. "Yes." 

   "Yes, OK. Well, you were a prick and I was distraught and then that night Lavender invited me to come out with her and I did. And I drank. And I drank some more. And more ... And then ... Here I am." The End. 

   "Wow." 

   "Yep." 

   "I made you distraught." 

   "Draco ... _that time_." 

   "Right. Right. Well, I have to say I am disappointed." 

   "Yes?" 

   "Yes." 

   "You were expecting an epic?" 

   "I was."

   "I can make it more interesting ... Once upon a time, there was an extremely attractive girl who was very smart and --" 

   "Granger."

   I look at him and give him a sharp look. "My name is Hermione."

   "Right. Sorry, Granger." He coughs as if to cover it up. Even in my drunk state I know what's going on. I'm not dim. Not that dim anyway. Well. A bit dim. 

   "Shut up. You know if you don't shut up your smarmy little mouth soon, I'll --" 

   "Where the fuck is your 'Off' button?" 

   I glare at him. Then smile, and say sarcastically, "You'll have to kiss me to get me to be quiet."

   He leans in. 

   Ack! 

   He's leaning in!

   Draco Malfoy is incurably dim!  

   Draco Malfoy is incurably dim! Draco -- 

   His mouth is near my ear. Don't touch it ... Don't touch it ... Do not salivate on my ear. "Your breath smells." 

   I smile at him. "Well, that's a relief 'cause so does yours?" 

   He rushes off to brush his teeth. 

   I sit in the calm and quiet living room and relax. Now. Where were we? 

   Oh right. 

   _Is it me or am I going crazy? _

**[OK. Really. I'll thank reviewers soon. Of course -- beach, you are the exception (hopefully not the drunk exception) hope you enjoyed this very piss-worthy chapter. Everyone should have enjoyed it. At least. Well, if you didn't you should have. AND - it's my birthday tomorrow. Only two people wished me a happy birthday! HELLO ... giving you cheesy entertainment for free deserves some recognition. Now. I knew I had something to tell you, but I forgot what it is. Oh yeah. Basically everything right now is a lot of mumbo-jumbo and heaps of you guys are bewildered by what's going on. Well, it's supposed to be that way! To keep you guessing! Get me? Good! Review! Or I will sing. Loud. **

**Cheers--**

**barbieQUE] **


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